The Ghost World
by Sophia Lestrange
Summary: It's been 18 years since Thomas, Minho, Brenda, and the other Immunes escaped to paradise through a Flat Trans. They have built a whole system to the place, and it's like a normal world. But when Thomas and Brenda's oldest daughter, Terry, convinces herself she has the Flare, she goes out of paradise and into the real ruined world. What will she find there? Maybe not what... who?
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This story is adopted from somethingrandom1234 with her permission. The first 10 ish chapters are hers, and I am just reposting it so I can continue it without any confusion. And, thank you, once again somethingrandom1234!

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"Terry!" I heard my name called as I walked down the hallways. I didn't even bother turning around to see who it was; I already knew by the voice. My friend, May, joined me, matching my stride. She was my dad's friend Minho Lee's daughter.

"Ready for history class?" she asked in an excited voice. Her long black hair bounced up and down in a ponytail.

"Why are you even excited?" I asked. "It's not like it's going to be any different from any other class."

May gasped. "Don't tell me you forgot! Your dad is teaching the class today!"

I dropped all of my books. Crap. "What? That was today?!" I shrieked.

May gave me a strange look. "How did you forget? We're learning more about WICKED and the Flare today. And the Maze too, since your dad knows so much about that stuff."

I frowned. "I doubt he likes talking about that stuff. I think they're really bad memories for him, and talking about them is like re-living them."

May shrugged. "I'm excited," she said.

"You're always excited," I snapped.

We rounded the corner and stepped into the history classroom. My father, also known as Thomas O'Brien, sat at the teacher's desk. I groaned. He caught my eye and flashed a teasing grin at me. I smiled despite myself before settling down in a seat next to May.

Five minutes later, my dad made his way to the front of the classroom. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair once before starting.

"Hey guys," he said. "My name's Thomas O'Brien, and I'll be your teacher for today."

Please don't mention me. Please don't mention me. Please don't mention me.

"For those of you wondering, yes, I am Terry's father. You can call me Mr. O'Brien."

Crap. He mentioned me. I let out a sigh.

My dad, sorry, Mr. O'Brien, winked at me before continuing. "I'll be teaching you about WICKED, the Flare, and the Maze today. Since I've been through the Maze and have been a Candidate for WICKED, apparently it's good for a veteran to teach kids about these things."

"It all started when the sun flares hit the Earth. The flares were massive, and when they hit Earth, they immediately destroyed all of our satellites. Thousands of people died instantly because of the heat. But that wasn't the worst. Then came the Flare."

"They don't start teaching you about the Flare until you're this age, because it's a horrible disease that would give kids nightmares if we teach them about it any earlier. The beginning symptoms of the Flare are slightly subtle. Your personality starts changing little by little, and you usually start to show more irritation. Some people get delusions in the first stage, making them paranoid. Others start craving human flesh when they catch the Flare. After the first few stages, the person will start to have animal instincts rather than human ones, and then they will completely lose their humanity. It makes them go crazy, takes over their brain. It is a horrible thing. Was."

"The people on this island are all immune to the Flare, so you don't need to worry about catching it."

My dad was still talking, but I zoned out for the rest of class. I already knew a lot about WICKED and the Maze, my father and mother told me all about it. I was impatient for my next class: Tech Ed. That's my favorite class. No, not because my mother teaches the class. It's just because I absolutely love technology and working with it. Heck, I don't even listen in class, I just do random complicated computer programming the entire time. I even know how to create a Flat Trans and link it to a different world. It's hard, but I know how.

Of course, my mother and father always scold me for not listening, but I couldn't care less. I already know the stuff anyway. And plus, it's their fault for using their own DNA to create me.

I would say my father is kind of like me. Maybe not as hotheaded, but still. We have the same stubbornness. Well, to put a positive spin on it, let's say determination. We have the same determination.

But I'm very blunt and honest, much to others' chagrin. I usually just say what I think. Unfortunately, this leads to other people being offended by what comes out of my mouth, but I truly don't mean to insult them. Of course, if I'm pissed off at somebody, I deliberately insult them. It's their fault though, not mine.

After history class, I walked to the Tech Ed room with my friend…well… acquaintance, Julian.

"Do you know what we're doing in Tech Ed?" I asked him. He frowned slightly. "I think a guest speaker is coming in and talking to us about Flat Trans," he said.

Ugh. Great. I glowered at the floor.

"That's it, I'm ditching the rest of school," I said. Julian stared at me in shock. "What? Terry, you can't just ditch school!" he exclaimed.

"I can do what I want to do. I already know about Flat Trans, and the rest of my classes today are boring anyways," I said stiffly.

Julian sighed. "I guess I can't stop you," he said before walking away.

I grinned. Yes! Now I can just disarm the school security system to get out of school without being caught, and then go to the gym. I walked quickly to the other end of the hall before turning a left. Left. Left. Right. Left. I maneuvered my way around the school until I arrived at a door labeled: Security. I knew that the security guys were out right now, so I pushed the heavy door open without caution.

I was faced with a large holographic computer screen that showed all of the views from the various security cameras placed around the school. In one fast motion, I seated myself on to the rolling chair and began to type on the keyboard. A screen for the password showed up, but I wasn't stumped. I knew the password, I had already hacked this computer before. My fingers found the right keys effortlessly, and within moments, I had hacked into the system and put the camera on a loop.

Then I pulled up another screen to deactivate the sensors. The advanced technology of this world provided the school with sensors that could detect if a person crossed the outside of the fence. The main sensor was attached on the school wall, and more sensors were planted underground to sense footsteps. The sensors could detect if the person was an intruder or not. If they detected that the person was an intruder (or in my case, a desperately bored student trying to ditch school), they could alert the security guys and have the person caught in a heartbeat. I shut off the sensors smoothly without any problem.

I glanced at my watch. The security guys should be back from their break by now. Hurriedly shutting down the computer, I ran out the door and into the hallways. I made my way to the recess doors, trying to look casual in case somebody caught me.

I pushed the heavy, metal-framed doors open and started to run to get to the fence, just in case one of the teachers happened to look out the window and see me trying to escape.

I loved to run, probably because of my father's genes inside of me. And I ran pretty fast, if I do say so myself. I did win the 5K race last year.

I jumped on to the fence, immediately starting to climb it. I used the holes between wires as handholds and footholds. I let out a hiss of air when I got to the top. I swung my legs over and leaped off. I hit the ground and started to run once more.

I smiled as I heard air whistling past my ears. I was free! I sprinted in the direction of the gym.

Time to practice hand-to-hand combat with Minho.


	2. Chapter 2

I burst through the gym doors happily. I immediately ran to the locker room, where I changed into black leggings, sneakers, and a neon green T-shirt. I tied my shoulder-length wavy brown hair up in a high ponytail before bolting to the main gym area.

The gym was a wondrous place. It was incredibly gigantic, and was full of exercising machines. Treadmills ran in one section, in another weightlifting, etc. The wooden floor was polished to a soft shine. I rushed to the far corner of the gym (the combat section), where a sweaty Asian man was working out.

"Combat me," I said, not even bothering with a greeting.

Minho raised his eyebrows as he sent a knife whirling at a target, hitting the bull's eye. "You're so nice with your greetings, you know that?" he asked sarcastically.

I ignored the jibe; he always says things like that, probably because I'm a brat. I don't care. I actually find his remarks pretty endearing. He usually has very good comebacks, and I respect him for that.

"C'mon, fight me. I need the practice," I pestered. I had too much pride to beg him.

Minho sent another knife flying with lightning fast speed. "What happened to school?" he asked, obviously trying to avoid answering me.

"Beats me," I replied stiffly.

He grinned. "You've done shucked up now, haven't you?"

"I always shuck up," I said, crossing my arms.

Minho did the same, veins bulging out of his muscular arms as he did so. "Well then, if you're going to combat me, I hope you've warmed up and stretched," he commented.

I groaned. I hated how Minho pointed those things out. Plus, in my excitement, I had forgotten all about stretching.

"I'll get to it," I muttered, trying to hide my embarrassment by tilting my head away. After about 15 minutes of stretches, I returned to where Minho was. He was currently punching a dummy hanging from the ceiling. I watched silently as he aimed a hit where the solar plexus would be on a normal human being. The punch was so powerful, the impact sent the dummy flying up in the air. I had to hold back a wince. That would've been painful if the cloth sack had been an actual person.

Even though I practice combat with him almost everyday, I'm still shocked at how much strength he has in his arms. Minho's like my mentor for hand-to-hand combat. He wins all of our fights, though. I can't begin to explain how much I want to defeat him. But hey, I always practice extra hard because of my frustration at losing. And I have been getting better lately, if I do say so myself.

Minho finally noticed me. "Okay, let's get started. The first person to get punched 15 times loses. If you hit the forearm, it doesn't count. Got it?" he asked.

I frowned. "15 times? That's more than usual."

Minho shrugged. "You wanted to do this. Not me."

"Don't go easy on me," I warned, desperately attempting to suppress the smile that was starting to form on my lips. We planted our feet across from each other.

"I never do," Minho said before charging at me with a curled fist. Luckily, I had anticipated this and ducked before the blow could land on my shoulder.

I took advantage of my lower position and aimed a punch at Minho leg. 1 for me, I thought. The victory was short lived. Minho punched my back lightly 3 times before I could get back up from my crouched position. I grit my teeth, but quickly straightened up and prepared myself for another attack.

Minho sent his right fist flying at my chest. I held my left arm up in a solid blocking position, but at the last second, his right arm stopped. A fake! Even though I saw it coming, I didn't have enough time to stop his left arm from snaking up and hitting me in the side.

With a quick glance at his feet, I noticed he was off balance. Taking that opportunity, I sent a flying kick at his right leg, knocking him off his feet. I slipped in 2 punches to his chest before Minho stuck his foot out in front of me. I was moving too fast to stop and tripped, face planting into the mat. Minho punched my butt 2 times before I slammed my foot in his solar plexus, making him bend down and gasp for air.

"You pervert," I said. I made 3 of my punches hit home on his back; the last one was caught by Minho. With my fist in his hand, he flipped me over his head with only one hand, slamming me onto my back. Not very impressive though, I'm pretty light anyways. He punched my stomach 4 times.

"Who's the pervert?" Minho asked with a mocking smile, looking down at me.

"Shucks to you if you think you can stand around mocking people during a fight!" I yelled. I slid between his legs and punched his left leg 3 times. Minho whipped around, grinning.

"You're getting better and better each day," he commented. We circled each other in a fighting stance for a few seconds before I decided to go for the hit. Wrong decision. Minho dodged my punch and hit me in the hip as he slipped past, sending me skidding across the floor.

He was on me faster than any human could possibly move. He clouted my stomach with 3 punches. But before he could land the final blow, I slammed my foot into his crotch. Minho fell down groaning.

"You're evil," he said.

"I'd be less evil if I wasn't looking at your face," I replied, smirking.

He smiled. "Ooh, that ugly shank Thomas has got one feisty daughter."

"Feisty is what I do!" I said joyfully, sending a fist flying at Minho's fallen form.

I partied too soon. I was punching with all my might this time, but Minho was still much stronger. He grabbed my wrist with incredible strength and pulled me close enough to him for a reasonable punching range. He hit the last blow on my thigh. Grinning, he let his iron grip loosen.

"Never let your guard down until you've won the fight," he said.

I let out a sigh.

"But hey, 9 to 15 is pretty good! Well, as my apprentice I think you could do a little better…" Minho had that scheming grin on his face.

I didn't care if he was purposely trying to rile me up. I was still on fire. "I can do better! Fight me again!" I demanded.

"You should show some respect to your elders, you know," Minho said, hands on his hips.

I failed to resist the urge to answer with a jibe. "I'll be respectful when I want to be respectful, grandpa," I replied.

Minho put a hand on his heart and pretended to be offended. "Who's a grandpa?" he asked in fake hurt voice.

"You are, you shuck-face," I said curtly.

"Watch your language, Terry," Minho said warningly. But I could tell he really didn't care if I used those words or not. Still, I had to retort.

"I would watch my language if it wasn't for the fact that you're the one who taught me these words," I snapped.

Minho grinned, as if impressed at my comeback. I doubted he really was impressed though, Minho was the king of comebacks.

"Let's have another round then, shall we?" he questioned.

I snorted. "You don't even need to ask. Of course!"

We had about 20 more rounds after this, Minho winning all of them. The sky was darkening by the time we finished up. I was bent down with my hands on my knees, panting from exhaustion. Sweat dripped down my chin.

"I think it's time for us to go," Minho said, handing me a towel. I nodded in reply, taking the towel and wiping sweat off my forehead.

I grabbed my stuff from the locker room and slowly jogged to the exit doors. "Bye Minho! I'm going to leave first," I called to him across the gym.

Minho raised his eyebrows. "And what do you say to your beloved mentor who did a million practice rounds with you today?"

I groaned. "Um…thanks, I guess."

He sighed. "Better than nothing. 'Night!"

"Good night!"

I ran all the way home, my aching muscles not stopping me from feeling the pure bliss of running. Now let's see if I get in trouble again for being late to dinner and ditching school.


	3. Chapter 3

I ran up the doorsteps to my house and pulled out the key. I shoved it in the keyhole and slowly turned it, not wanting to make any noise. Then I quietly cracked the door open, making enough space for me to slip in unnoticed.

I tried. I really did try to get in silently. But the moment I shut the door, my mom, also known as Brenda O'Brien, appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the hallway wall. She crossed her arms.

"Where were you, Terry?" she asked.

I paused. "Um…I was combat training with Minho. Nothing out of the norm."

My mother sighed. "I assumed that much, Terry. I meant, where were you at school?"

Whelp. I was doomed. "You noticed?" I asked weakly.

"You must think I'm insane if I didn't notice my own child was missing from my own class," Mom replied in a matter-of-factly way.

"Not gonna lie, then. I ditched," I said. She gave out another long sigh.

"Terry, you've got to stop ditching school. It's not good," my mom started, probably beginning another lecture. I wasn't in the mood to hear a whole speech that only goody-two-shoes would listen to and follow.

I cut her off. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just that I already know all of the things they teach me, and I get bored. I'll stay in school without ditching for the entire week next time. So please, just save the lecture for another time."

She raised her eyebrows. She must have realized I was sacrificing my own pride when I used the words "sorry" and "please."

"Okay then. But please try to be on time to dinner too. You always worry us when you're late," she said, concern creasing her forehead.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just love hand-to-hand combat." Jeez, there must be something wrong with me today. I've said sorry at least 2 times and thank you at least 2 times too.

Mom nodded. "Dinner is on the table."

As I approached the dining room, I heard voice talking. I grinned as I recognized them. I burst through the kitchen door. Just as I predicted, Frypan was seated at the table across from my dad. Frypan was one of my dad's old friends who went through the Maze with him. His cooking was amazing. I chose the wrong day to be late for dinner. Oh well.

"There's something called turning the doorknob and opening the door, you know," my dad said. "You don't open it by just body-slamming it."

"I know how to open a door, Dad," I said. But then I saw the look in his eyes and softened. Today must have terrible for him. To explain what happened to him and what WICKED made people go through must have been especially painful, since he's the one who went through most of it. Even though he's happy here, he still carries the sorrow of losses on his shoulders. The same goes for Minho. I think they're both extremely brave to be able to keep the sadness inside them. Talking about their past must be like reliving the whole nightmare.

"Sorry," I said hurriedly, trying to fix my words. "Your lesson today was good. Thanks for coming in." Oh gosh, I sound so cheesy. Dad, just like Mom, sensed my effort in trying to be thoughtful.

"Thanks, Terry," he said, smiling lightly. I nodded. Then I turned to Frypan.

"Welcome home, Terry," Frypan said with a teasing grin. "Just in time for dinner."

I stuck out my tongue at him. Settling down in a chair, I concentrated on trying not to eat like a pig. Truth was, I was starving, but I wasn't about to show my disgusting side to other people. So I ate the grand meal politely, using table manners. Ugh. Table manners are overrated, but whatever.

To rival with my angry feelings, the meal was so delicious I wanted to sob and laugh at the same time. Rare roasted beef cut into paper- thin slices. Creamy mashed potatoes drenched with thick gravy. Sweet corn overflowing the plate. I'm not ashamed to say that I had seconds.

After dinner and a quick goodbye to Frypan, I rushed upstairs. I swiftly took a warm shower and got into my pajamas. I was planning to go to sleep right away, but unfortunately, I found my little 10-year old brother Isaac playing with my other little brother Charlie, who was 5 years old, in my room.

Isaac had curly blonde hair for some reason. I would have teased him by telling him he was adopted, but the thing was, I was at the hospital when he was born. And after my mother's labor was done, I got to see him. So I doubt he was really adopted. His sharp blue eyes looked exhausted. Isaac was apparently named after Isaac Newton, a famous scientist.

What had confused me about this was that when Dad told this to Isaac, he had said, "You were named after the great scientist Isaac Newton. Like Newt." Dad's expression had dampened after he said the name "Newt." I wonder who that is.

Charlie, on the other hand, was practically bouncing off the walls. He had curly hair too, but his was a soft chocolate brown color. I knelt down and pinched his chubby cheeks, looking into his twinkling brown eyes.

Charlie was named after Charles Darwin, the guy who discovered evolution. Dad often called Charlie "Chuck" by accident. I didn't know why, but he often looked sad after saying the wrong name.

As for me, I was named after some smart person named Teresa Agnes. The thing was, I've never even heard of that person before. So it left me stumped as to why they named me Terry after her.

"Hey guys," I said. "What are you doing up so late? It's like 9 PM."

"Terry!" Charlie squealed, jumping into my arms. I lifted him up and gave him a hug. "Hey Charlie boy. Aren't you sleepy?" I murmured gently.

Isaac answered for him. "He's been super hyper ever since he got back home from school. Since you've been away doing illegal stuff, I'm the one who's been playing with him all day."

I grinned slightly sheepishly. "Sorry Izzy. And I was not doing illegal stuff. Why would you assume that?"

"Because you're you," Isaac replied. "And don't call me Izzy. I'm not a girl."

"Whatever you say, Izzy," I teased, making him groan. "But seriously, why aren't you guys asleep?"

"It's Friday, Terry!" Charlie yelped happily. My eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, it really is Friday! I totally forgot!"

Isaac chuckled. "This is a historic moment, people. The school-hating Terry O'Brien actually forgot it was Friday!"

"Shut up, Isaac," I said.

"Terry! Terry!" Charlie exclaimed. "Can you play with me too? We can play tag! Can we? Can we? Please?"

I sighed. "Charlie, you need to go to sleep, Friday or not. I'll go tuck you in."

Charlie pouted. "But I want Mommy and Daddy to tuck me in!"

"Okay, I'll go get Mom and Dad. Isaac, you can go to sleep now. Thanks for your work," I told him.

After a whole exhausting episode of getting Mom and Dad to try to get Charlie to go to sleep, I finally got my peace. Isaac's loud snores could be heard through the walls. I slowly drifted into the dark abyss of sleep.

I was standing in the middle of massive ruins. There were crumbled leftovers of buildings and flecks of dusty debris were flying around in the air. Suddenly, I heard the roar of a crowd all around me. Startled, I looked around, trying to see who the people in the crowd were.

But I couldn't see the details of each face. They were just colored blurs. Despite that, I could tell that something was wrong with them. Their figures were somehow…faded. Their voices were overlapping each other with such vigor that I couldn't tell what they were shouting.

I felt something weigh my hands down. I looked down. I saw an unconscious body resting in my arms. Just like the rest of the crowd, the face was blurred. All of a sudden, I could hear what the people were screaming.

"Kill him!" they shrieked. "Kill the ones that could've been us! Give us the lives we always wanted!"

"Take the lives of the people who got to live while we died! Kill the people who didn't try to help! Kill him!"

I watched in horror as my hands moved on the own. I tried to stop them from grabbing the person's neck, but I couldn't control them at all. It was like somebody else was manipulating my body like a puppet.

I wanted to scream when my hands gripped his neck in an iron clasp and started twisting. But my voice felt trapped and I just couldn't move at my own will. I heard bones snapping as I twisted his neck all the way around, 360 degrees. I felt sickened. I wanted to throw up. But I just couldn't.

I dropped his dead body. Cheers erupted from the crowd. Out of nowhere, a cliff appeared. I swiftly kicked his body off the cliff. For some horrible reason, I felt delight in seeing the terribly mutilated body fade away into the dark, shadows overlapping its path. I stared down the cliff. I wanted to scream and cry. Instead, I felt the tips of my mouth tilting up. Sickened to the bone, I tried to escape a pulling sensation leading me to the edge of the cliff. But after a few failed tries, my body moved on its on towards the cliff.

I struggled against it, but I couldn't win. I threw myself off the cliff. But as I hurled down, I saw a familiar, clear face. The face belonged to a man named Gally, my father's rival. He watched as I fell, air whistling past my ears. I suddenly found myself able to speak again. I managed to scream one word before everything went black. "NO!"

I woke up, palms sweating. Panting hard, I felt something hard against my back. I realized that I was on the floor. I stood up with shaking legs. That nightmare had been awful. I wanted to curl up in my bed and cry. But I didn't want to appear too weak to be able to fight off a nightmare, so I resisted the urge. I glanced at the clock. It read 7:00 AM. As my eyes grazed the view outside the window, it occurred to me that my window was open. I frowned. Weird. I don't remember opening it last night.

I crept downstairs, trying to pat down my messy hair. The doorbell rang. Surprisingly, Dad was up too. He sped down the hallway and opened the door before I could even reach for the knob. Shockingly, Minho was at the door. His face was hard and stony.

"I found him in his backyard. He's dead," Minho said in a low voice.

I saw my father's shoulders stiffen up. He shifted his weight to try to hide the view from me, but I peeked around his shoulders. I froze. In Minho's arms was a dead body. And that body belonged to Gally.


	4. Chapter 4

I clapped my hands to my mouth in horror. Gally's body was horribly mutated, his neck twisted all the way around, bones snapped and sticking out in the wrong direction. His eyes were purely white, and his tongue jutted out of his mouth, tinted dark purple. Minho started to explain, but my pounding head couldn't make out what he was saying.

I felt bile creeping up my throat. Making a weird choking sound, I dashed upstairs and groped my way to the bathroom, desperately trying to hold in my vomit.

This doesn't make sense. I didn't even eat anything this morning! I thought.

As soon as I stumbled into the bathroom, I snapped. Collapsing next to the toilet, I bent over and started to throw up. My hands clutched the toilet seat so hard, my knuckles turned white. I felt the barf slide up my throat and come up in an excruciatingly disgusting manner, flowing out of my mouth and splashing into the toilet. My throat made a strange gurgling noise, and my breaths were hitched and rapid. Finally, when all of the substances of my stomach were emptied, I shakily grabbed the flushing lever and watched as a horrid concoction of meshed up colors spiraled down, disappearing with a satisfying clunk. Haha, I'm so funny. Clunk, klunk. As in poop. And it's a toilet. Never mind.

I lay there on the cool bathroom tiles, heaving in breaths of air. My arms and legs were trembling, either from vomiting or the terror of seeing Gally's dead body. The nightmare I had last night kept on replaying inside my head. I shuddered. The memory of it was still sharp in my mind. And it struck me as peculiar that Gally's neck was twisted 360 degrees around like the person I killed in my dream…

Gritting my teeth, I stood up. Wondering about stuff wasn't going to get anything done. I had to find out how Gally died. Not that I liked him very much in the first place. My father and mother both didn't like him very much, especially my father. He apparently has bad history with Gally. I personally think that his eyebrows are wacko and cool, but his personality is wacko and uncool. Gally was pretty nasty on a daily basis.

I slowly went down the stairs, dreading to see what havoc had occurred after I had rushed upstairs. I almost jumped out of my skin when I entered the living room. Gally's corpse was splayed on the couch, his face still frozen in that ghastly expression. I walked past the couches and to the kitchen door, determined to not look at the body.

I entered the kitchen with shivers running down my spine. Minho, Dad, and Mom sat at the dining table, discussing with whispers. All of their faces looked dead serious. Oh wow, I'm using such a cruel description considering the situation, but yes, they looked dead serious. Minho's hands were clasped around a mug of some steaming drink. They all quieted down and looked up when I came in.

Dad was the first one to speak up. "Hey, Terry, are you all right? You looked like you were about to vomit."

"Yeah, no kidding," I muttered. My mother opened her mouth, but I cut in before she could say a word.

"What is wrong with you guys? Leaving a corpse on the couch. I'm never sitting down on that couch again." I hated how my voice cracked at "corpse."

Mom sighed. "We're sorry, hon. But we couldn't just leave him outside."

"It's not even cold outside," I protested weakly. I think all three adults knew I was just trying to keep talking about unnecessary stuff so I wouldn't have to face the reality of the situation. I must seem ridiculous, complaining about the couch being dirty when somebody just died. I bit my lip.

"Just tell me what happened," I prompted, staring Minho down.

Minho looked down at his mug before meeting my eyes with a firm stare.

"I don't think you want to know," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "I can handle it, thank you very much."

"Hey, you had to go and vomit just at the sight of him, kiddo," Minho pointed out.

"Minho, tell her," Dad said gently. Minho looked like he was about to protest, but decided against it.

"Fine, I surrender," he said. "I had to go to his house to get some papers for work before the day started. I rang the doorbell a couple of times and waited for a few minutes, but he didn't answer. I decided to go back when a glimpse of clothing caught my eye. I rounded the side of the porch and found Gally lying there, already dead with his shuck neck twisted up. Freaked the living klunk out of me. Looked like he was thrown out a window. But a person must have gotten to his neck. No building, no matter how high, could twist a neck like that."

I stayed silent. I mean, how would you react to that information? I couldn't think of anything proper to say, so I just kept my mouth shut. Which is a first for me.

Mom was solemn. "We can figure out stuff about the murder later. For now, we have to bury Gally and pay our respects."

Minho slammed his fists on the table, rattling the mug. "What are you talking about? This means that a killer is on the loose. We have to find the killer before more people get shucking murdered. And I thought this place was happy-land." The last sentence was spoken in a bitter voice. He turned to Dad. "You with me, Thomas?"

Dad cleared his throat. "I agree we have to search and find out who killed Gally. We can't just let people do what they want. The killer has to be punished. But I also agree that we need to hold a small funeral for Gally. It won't take that long. Then we can get to work."

Mom nodded, looking relieved that Dad had agreed with her proposal. Minho's mouth quirked down in a scowl, but he showed his approval with a curt nod as well.

I took this as my cue to leave. I left the room without a word, barely glimpsing my father's acknowledging eyes. I stared intently at the floor as I walked through the living room, passing by the corpse. In the background, I heard my mother call to me. "Don't wake up Isaac and Charlie yet!"

As if I would wake up my little brothers and have them face this situation. It would scar them for life. And I was not planning on doing that to them.

After I got to my bedroom, I pushed the window shut carefully. Then I sunk into my bed. But I wasn't about to fall asleep. That might lead to more nightmares. For now, I'll just lay here.

~ Time skip~

So somehow I ended up just lying down and staring at the ceiling for 5 hours straight. Not the best quality time. But the adults got the funeral matter settled, and managed to get the corpse out of the house before Isaac and Charlie woke up. Kudos to them.

The funeral for Gally was apparently next Saturday. How they arranged that so fast, I don't know. But I can tell Mom and Dad have been occupied the past few days with trying to figure out why anyone would want to kill Gally. Scratch that, I think everybody wants to kill Gally, but who would literally go through with it?

Monday comes too fast. Mom cancels all of her classes that week, and everyday seems to pass by as a blur. I end up not even going to school for three days in a row. So much for the promise I made to Mom. Oh well. I don't think she even noticed. Minho completely turns down our practice matches, making my gloomy mood even worse. I understand why he doesn't want to do hand-to-hand combat though. Considering what happened, I shouldn't be complaining at all.

My only job for the past week was to keep Isaac and Charlie busy so they wouldn't realize what crisis had occurred. Isaac has incredibly sharp intellect, so I think he noticed that something was off about Mom and Dad and me. But he's smart enough not to ask. Charlie, on the other hand, doesn't realize anything is wrong at all and was childishly attempting to climb the walls like Spiderman yesterday.

Finally, Saturday comes after a tiring week. Not that I'm looking forward to the funeral. I might throw up again. Looking towards the positive side, I haven't had another nightmare since the incident, so I don't have to freak out while sleeping again.

While I'm changing, I hear the creak of my door. Mom comes into my room, probably to see what I'm going to wear to the funeral. She sighed when she saw I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Terry, you have to wear something more proper," she scolded.

I groaned. "This is proper. Do you want me to go naked?"

Mom looked me firmly in the eyes. I stared back. Without saying a word, she approached my closet and flung open the doors. She quickly sorts through my clothes, and finally comes out with a silky black dress that's about knee length. I almost screamed.

"You're going to make me wear a dress?" I asked, in a furious, shaky whisper.

My mother raised her eyebrows. "Yes. You can wear your black leather boots with them."

Okay, I love my boots, so maybe that's not bad. But still…

"No way."

Mom ignores my protest and throws the dress onto my bed.

"Wear it. I have to go get ready."

I grabbed her arm before she could leave, wanting to ask her he question that's been burning through my mind the whole week.

"Have you told Isaac and Charlie about it? Are they going to the funeral? Isaac's not dumb you know, he knows something's wrong," I blurted out.

Mom bit her lip. "I'm having them come to the funeral. I just told them Gally died. But that's all. They don't need to know the rest."

I frowned. "Isaac's going to push. He wants to know."

"Well then, don't tell him. Just say that Gally died and we're going to his funeral," Mom reasoned.

I suppressed a groan. Mom didn't know how difficult Isaac could get when he wants to be. He could be difficult with Mom and Dad, but with me, he doubles that amount.

"Okay," I said, trying to keep my voice level.

Mom's eyes softened. "Thank you." Then she left.

I was tempted to just rip the dress into pieces and throw it out the window, but I didn't want to distress Mom even more, so I put it on. Ugh, and it was one of those stupid spaghetti strap ones. At least it had no sparkly jewels on it or anything. I shoved my feet into my heeled black boots and combed out my brown hair. I sighed and stalked out the door, not even bothering to check my reflection in the mirror.

Instead, I went to Isaac's room. I opened the door without knocking, because it annoys the heck out of him. This time, though, he's more annoyed about something else than my bad habits.

Isaac stood there, looking very smart in his black suit. He crossed his arms and glared at me. I find it very hard to think he's only ten years old when he acts more mature than me and is at least 3 times more intelligent than me too.

I wasn't even allowed to start talking. "Why didn't you tell me that Gally died?" he prompted. "Is that why this entire week, you've been spending every single hour after school with Charlie and I? Just to amuse us so that we wouldn't know? I could tell that something felt wrong. I'm not stupid, you know. Mom and Dad have hardly been home at all! And fine, don't tell me right away, but to keep it from me until the funeral? Really? I can handle death, you know."

Let's just say I forgot to watch my words. "Izzy, you would definitely not be able to handle it. For shucking goodness sake, it sent me flying upstairs and vomiting. I can't even begin to imagine how you would react."

Isaac paused. "What's it?" he asked suspiciously. Whelp. Crap.

"Nothing," I said, a little too quickly.

"I don't believe you," was Isaac's immediate reply. I would be surprised if you did, I thought.

"The body. I saw the dead body, okay? And it made me vomit everything out of my stomach," I told him cautiously. Hey, at least I kept the part about how Gally was most likely murdered a secret.

Now Isaac looked frightened. I moaned inwardly. "Sorry, Izzy, I didn't mean to scare you, heck, I wasn't even supposed to tell you that, but don't tell Charlie, just make it through the funeral, sorry for not telling you, but seriously, you're only 10, and-"

Isaac cut my blabbering off. "Oh, come on, Terry. I thought you were the tough macho one. It's fine. I just hate being out of the loop. Tell me next time, okay?"

I heaved in a breath of air with relief, since I said all of that without taking a single break.

"I'm just hoping that there isn't a next time," I replied. Isaac nodded his consent.

"Come on, kids! We're going now!" Dad called from downstairs.

"Coming," Isaac muttered.

I gave him a strange look. "I still don't know how you think they can hear you when you use that volume of voice." Then, I screamed one word that would count for both my and my brother's reply.

"COMING!"

Isaac winced and glared at me. I ignored him and ran downstairs. Mom, Dad, and Charlie were already waiting at the front door. Isaac was close behind me.

My family clambered into the car, Charlie fussing about his seatbelt. Before we set off, Dad turned around and gave me a stern look.

"Behave yourself, Terry," he said, in quite a scary voice.

Now, other people would be surprised that Dad was telling me, a 12 year old who was the eldest child, to behave, but it was normal in this household.

"I always do," I said, a little too innocently. But I was seriously planning to behave myself, at least for a funeral, since death is no laughing manner. Of course, things never go as you want them to go, and at this certain occasion, things were unfortunately going to go horribly wacko.


	5. Chapter 5

There were about 20 people attending the funeral, including my family. The service didn't take long; there was just a long line of people paying their respects to the body in the coffin and all that. Fortunately, the corpse wasn't on display, so I didn't have to throw up at all.

After the indoor service, all the guests went outside where the coffin was to be buried. Dad was assigned to be one of the pallbearers. I had no interest with prayers and that stuff, so I zoned out for the rest of the funeral after the body was buried. Geez, I hope they cremated the corpse before. I can't even begin to imagine what Gally would look like if they didn't. Oh gosh, the thought of it makes me want to vomit.

Everybody went inside to eat the refreshment foods that had been served while the burial was in process. I stayed out a little longer though. I didn't feel like eating anything.

As I sat in the grass, I saw a small flicker at the edge of my vision. I whipped around to face a tombstone that was engraved with the words, "Gally Poulter." Nothing special there. It was just Gally's grave. Confused, I blinked rapidly a couple of times to make sure my eyes were seeing straight.

I decided to go out to the woods that were near the graveyard to clear my head. As I got up, a sudden chill swept over me. I had to grind my teeth together to stop them from chattering. The cold was gone in a matter of seconds, leaving me vulnerable to a gloomy sky again.

I jogged into the woods, happiness flooding me as soon as I got shaded from the leaves above me. I absolutely love the woods. Of course, it's always better to explore on a sunny day, but cloudy days give the trees this mysterious vibe that I love.

I traveled alongside a small creek that was running quietly, its water lapping over rocks. I abruptly stopped my process when I caught a glimpse of something behind an oak tree. Suspicious, I cautiously tiptoed closer to the great oak.

I jerked back in shock when I saw something come out from behind the tree. It was a hand. The hand didn't look normal. Its fingers were trembling, and it had a ghastly pale skin tone. I stared, mesmerized, as the hand started to reach out, fingers stretching desperately. It was then that I realized that the hand was not just trying to reach as far as possible; it was trying to grab my face.

A scream erupted from me. I stumbled backwards before regaining my balance and bolting away from the oak tree. I had trouble running in a dress, but I managed. After about 5 minutes of sprinting, I stopped to catch my breath. I forced myself to think logically.

Listen; maybe that hand was just your imagination. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Not real. Not real. Not real.

Shivers ran down my spine. My head snapped up to see a pale figure standing right in front of me. I felt my heart rate speed up when I saw the person staring down at me. My legs were shaking from pure terror. I couldn't bring myself to move away from the stranger.

My eyes widened after a close inspection of the stranger's face. Ferociously high eyebrows, blunt square nose…it was Gally. I felt my heart plunge to my stomach in cold fear. No…not possible. Gally's dead. I saw his body…what was he doing here?

I screamed at myself to run, but my body felt frozen in place. Gally was still staring down at me with maniacal eyes. His mouth was moving, but my ears couldn't process what he was saying.

I felt my knees buckle underneath me. This wasn't real. No, I wasn't seeing a dead person right now. No, it's a delusion. Just purely a delusion. The clouds in the sky started to darken ominously.

This triggered something inside my memory.

A sudden thought hit me so hard, I felt a little dizzy. Dread filled me to the rim. What if… No, I couldn't think about that possibility. Dad said it was impossible.

The only thing that was running through my head was my dad's words when he came in during class.

"The beginning symptoms of the Flare are slightly subtle. Your personality starts changing little by little, and you usually start to show more irritation. Some people get delusions in the first stage, making them paranoid."

My mind was concentrating on one phrase though. "Some people get delusions in the first stage."

A rumble of thunder cut my thoughts off. Raindrops started to fall from the sky, one sliding down my nose. Gally was still planted in front of me. His hand reached for my face. I was defenseless. I wanted to run away from him, but I just couldn't. My senses were paralyzed with fear.

I watched, hypnotized, as his hand kept on getting closer and closer to my face. I braced myself for something painful as his hand finally came to rest on my face…I felt nothing. Frozen, I glanced up. And almost had a panic attack.

Gally's hand had went though my head. It couldn't touch my skin; it just went through my face as if his hand had no solid substance. I had to be imagining this. It was not possible.

I dully sensed that I was drenched from the rain as I sat there, frozen. Gally withdrew his hand and kept on saying something I couldn't hear. All of a sudden, every noise in the background seemed to fade away, leaving only Gally's words to be heard.

"You killed me," he whispered before vanishing from sight with no trace that he was there at all.

I stared at the empty space. "W-w-what?" I asked to no one in particular, my lips trembling.

My dress was torn and filthy, and I was soaked from head to toe with rainwater. I couldn't care less. Exhaustion was flooding my insides, forcing energy to seep out. I felt a cold pit in my stomach, turning my blood to ice. Consciousness was slipping away from me fast. I could only manage one thought before the darkness swallowed me.

"I'm going insane."


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up in bed, blankets piled on top of me. My head was burning with a fever. A glass of water sat on top of my bedside table, the surface of the water reflecting the glowing light of the lamp. I managed to summon what little strength I had left, and kicked off the blankets, knocking over the glass of water and the clock in the process. The glass shattered into pieces on the floor, spilled water filtering through the shards. I swore under my breath.

I glanced up as the door cracked open. It was Isaac.

"You're awake," he commented.

"No, duh," I spat back, sinking back into my bed. "What time is it anyway?"

Isaac cocked an eyebrow. "There's a clock right next to your bed."

"Was," I corrected. The clock currently lay on the floor with its whole back cover busted, batteries spilling out.

He crossed his arms, gave out a small huff, and looked at me expectantly. I, having no idea what he wanted me to do, stared back, trying to make him uncomfortable and force him to look away. The staring contest was getting awkward, so I asked, "What do you want from me?"

"Mom and Dad want to know why you were laying there in the middle of the forest while it was raining. Not the smartest idea, if you ask me. Ruined your dress too. No matter how boring the funeral was, nothing gives you the right to try and catch a cold so you can skip school," Isaac said.

I gawked at him. "You thought I was trying to get a fever on purpose just so I could skip school? Who do you take me as?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "I take you as my corrupt older sister who hates school and will go to all lengths to skip it."

"You're just falsely accusing me now!" I exclaimed.

"Well, I think my accusation is unsurprisingly correct," he replied stubbornly.

"That's not true! I was just getting a breath of fresh air," I protested.

"I believe that story as much as I believe Minho's hair is all natural," Isaac retorted.

"It is!"

"His hair is legitimately defying gravity. Not possible, if you ask me."

"Minho's hair is soft! I accidentally yanked it once when we were doing hand-to-hand combat. No way he gells it!"

"He blows the money on his work paycheck seconds after he receives it. And you know what store he went to after getting his money? Bath & Body Works."

"Bath & Body Works does not sell hair gel. Have you ever been there before?"

"Once, and it smelled horrible in there."

"It smells good!"

"Way too overwhelming if you ask me."

"Well I didn't ask you."

"And I don't care."

We both took deep breaths of air. My throat was starting to hurt from all the arguing, and the fever didn't make it any better. Then something occurred to me.

"Hey Isaac, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did, but fine."

"How did you know Minho went to Bath & Body Works after receiving his big paycheck? How did you know he got a paycheck anyway?"

"Um…" was the response.

"Oooh, stalker," I smirked.

"Shut up," Isaac snapped, his eyes glowing with anger. "I'm going to get Mom and Dad now. You can explain seriously to them."

My good mood broke instantaneously. I suddenly remembered what happened in the woods. I saw Gally…. He told me that I killed him. Impossible. I don't recall anything like that, and plus, I'm not that deranged. I must seriously be going insane though. Could it be...?

Isaac snapped his fingers in front of my face. I must have been zoning out. "Hello, did you hear me? I'm getting Mom and Dad," he said before leaving the room. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps thudding up the stairs.

My door opened to reveal the faces of my mother and father. Ah, look at those stern looks; I'm going to have a lovely time here. Just wonderful. NOT.

Mom spoke first. "Sweetie, are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, I'm feeling fine, Mother," I said, mocking her concerned tone.

My mother's eyes flitted to the broken glass and clock. From her expression, I could tell she wasn't happy about that occurrence.

"Enough of that," Dad interrupted. My eyes darted towards him. I flinched at his fierce expression.

"What were you doing out there in the rain? I mean, I wouldn't be as mad if you were trying to run back to the church, but just lying there? Are you kidding me? You caught a cold because of it! Why do you always try to ditch school? Isaac had to go looking for you and was traumatized to find you just passed out on the ground." Dad scolded.

I groaned. Why does everybody think I was trying to catch a cold to skip school? Do I have that bad of a reputation? Most likely yes. But you know what, I DON'T CARE. And I don't believe Isaac was worried at all about me. I'm not telling them the truth though. They'll think I'm going mentally insane. Which I most likely am. And if my theory is right, not telling them will just spare them some grief. Better just go with the rebel stereotype.

"I was just getting some fresh air," I said weakly, using the same argument from before.

Mom and Dad both wore incredulous looks on their face.

"I don't believe any word of that," Mom said.

I pretended to give in. "Okay, fine! I was trying to get sick so I could ditch school! Sorry, not sorry!"

Dad gave me his best "You are so in trouble, young lady" glare.

"That's it, you're grounded for a week. You're going to stay at home until your fever goes away, but other than school, no going outside. Not for the gym, nothing. Got that?" he said firmly, not so much asking as ordering. I had no choice but to nod glumly.

As Dad turned towards the door, Mom placed a pill on my night table. "Swallow that," she said. "And please clean up the broken glass. The broom is in the bathroom closet. We can try to fix the clock later." And then she left.

I grumbled to myself. First of all, I didn't feel like cleaning anything up right now. Second of all, I was grounded for a week. And third of all, I HAVE A FRIGGIN' FEVER RIGHT NOW AND MY HEAD FEELS LIKE IT'S ON FIRE! Okay, my ranting is done. Oh wait, I forgot about the small problem of me going insane. The world's so great right now.

I grew a bit more serious, letting go of my sarcastic mood. I had a theory. A bad one. But in my bones, I feel like it's true. Having that nightmare. My hallucination in the forest. It can't be anything else. It has to be…

My door burst open. Isaac stood there rigidly, hands behind his back. I immediately realized something was wrong. His eyes that were once sky blue were now pale and empty.

"Isaac?" I asked cautiously.

Something broke his fierce expression. For a second, I saw his a hint of blue flash back into his blank irises, long enough for Isaac to mutter two words before his eyes changed back to the milky color it was previously.

"Sorry, sis."

Then he lunged at me with a long, sharp knife.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I didn't act in the most graceful way, which is understandable, because it wasn't everyday that your little brother attacks you with a knife.

As soon as Isaac charged towards me with a knife, my reflexes acted faster than my brain. I clumsily rolled over as fast as I could away from Isaac and landed on the floor with a large thump, knocking the air out of me. The knife was stuck in the bed, hitting exactly where I was a few seconds ago.

Before I knew it, Isaac was wrenching the blade out of the bed. No, this wasn't Isaac. This wasn't my little brother. It was an imposter. My brother would never attack me.

I had no time to think about what was going on. I just knew that I had to move or die. Quickly, I stood up. I didn't care that I was making an easier target of myself; I couldn't operate properly while laying down.

Imposter-Isaac made another attempt to kill me, this time throwing the knife straight towards my chest with stunning accuracy and speed that I've only seen Minho master. I barely had enough time to dodge, and the knife still managed to slice a gash on my arm. The knife lodged itself into the wall, hilt quivering from the impact. I felt blood gushing down my arm. Fortunately, the cut was so clean, I didn't even feel any pain.

By taking one look at Imposter-Isaac's stance, I knew that he wasn't done yet. He leapt over the bed and jerked the knife out of the wall. Trying to strike at me again, Not-Isaac surged at me, this time keeping the knife firm in his hands. I saw air wind milling around the sharp blade. Ducking to avoid contact with the knife, I skirted around the bed.

"Isaac!" I whisper-shouted, not wanting to create too much unwanted noise that would surely be questioned later by Mom and Dad. "What are you doing?"

Imposter-Isaac completely ignored me. Instead, he sent the blade whirling towards me with intense power. I didn't have enough time to duck properly, so I had to wrench my body back like I was doing the limbo to avoid getting stabbed by the knife. Too late, I realized my mistake. I did manage to not get hit, yes, but I lost my balance from the sudden rupture that rocked my center of gravity. And guess what was on this side of the bed. Shattered pieces of glass.

My unbalanced body weight sent me sprawling into the broken glass. More fragments of the glass broke under the burden of my weight, but even more stabbed me in the back, leaving oozing puncture wounds behind. I resisted the urge to scream.

Swiftly, I got back up, unwilling to lie there on a bed of jagged glass. Some shards that had dug deeper into my skin than others jutted out of my back. Blood was soaking into my shirt. The pain was almost unbearable.

Never in my entire life did I regret my laziness as much as I did now.

I hunched over and put my elbows on my knees, panting desperately. Panic was overwhelming me. I didn't understand why this was all happening. Why did Isaac have those chilling blank eyes? Why is my 10-year-old brother who has the skills and reflexes of someone much older attacking me?

I wanted to assume that this was all a hallucination. I would rather go insane than have this actually happening. But the metallic scent of blood hung in the air, and my wounds were screaming in agony. This was no delusion.

Suddenly, I felt something sharp tickling my neck. My stomach sank in dread. I was stupid to get caught up in my thoughts. Imposter-Isaac held his knife at my neck, the blade barely scraping my skin. He yanked my hair back, making my head buck backwards as well. I was on my knees, at the mercy of my brother. My breaths were coming out unevenly. Fear swallowed me whole. Was he seriously going to kill me?

As if Imposter-Isaac could read my thoughts, he replied, "You killed me. It's only fair if I kill you." He smiled broadly, a maniacal grin on his face.

I took advantage of the moment that he had let his guard down. Not-Isaac was in a good position for me to execute my move; he was to my right side and his legs were spread shoulder-width apart. Thankfully, he was only 10 and was a head taller than me when I was kneeling down. My little brother was short enough for me to strike where I wanted as well. All I had to do was lift my right knee to the side with a bit more strength than usual without moving my upper body. Because if I did shift my neck slightly, it would be enough action for the knife to sink into my flesh. It wasn't exactly the most graceful move of all time, but it worked incredibly well against boys. Yup. You got it.

I kneed him in the crotch. Call it playing dirty or whatever. Let me just say something: IT WORKS. DEAL WITH IT.

It immediately caused Imposter-Isaac to drop the knife and let go of my hair to clutch his lower pelvis area. I snatched the knife before he could recover. I was tempted to twirl the shiny blade around triumphantly like I've seen Minho do, but I didn't want to accidentally cut my hand off or further damage my body. Imposter-Isaac looked up at me with his sunken, blank eyes riveted on me. I realized that he was waiting, not even trying to get his only weapon back.

Cold fear crept through me. What was I going to do? I couldn't…I couldn't kill him, could I? I had his knife. He couldn't threaten me anymore. But…I couldn't just stand here either. Shakily, I pointed the knife at him, trying to force myself to grow an intimidating aura. Maybe he would back down. Imposter-Isaac looked unaffected.

My door burst open. It was Charlie. He started to blabber as soon as he set foot in the room. "Terry! You're awake! Can you play-" his childish voice faltered as his eyes washed over the scene. I was frozen with horror. What could Charlie be thinking right now? His sister was pointing a knife at his brother. There's nothing normal about that.

"Terry, Isaac…what are you doin-" the five-year-old boy started when Not-Isaac interrupted him by lunging at me. I was caught completely off guard. He knocked me down to the ground, sending the knife clattering across the wooden floor. In a desperate scrabble, we both thrust our bodies forward to grab the knife. Charlie squealed in terror, hopping away from our sliding forms.

As my fingers grasped around the hilt of the knife a fraction of a second faster than Imposter-Isaac, I heard the sound of footsteps making their way up the stairs. Oh no. If Mom or Dad came in now…

My dreaded thoughts were disrupted by Charlie's screaming. I whipped around to see Imposter-Isaac attempting to strangle the poor boy, knees straddled Charlie's torso, hands finding purchase on his neck. A shriek erupted from me. Not-Isaac was attacking Charlie too? Charlie was such an innocent boy, he couldn't die because of me -this guy was a monster.

I acted purely on instinct. I couldn't say I didn't mean to, but I couldn't say I wanted to either. Seeing my little baby brother being choked by this…this intruder was too much. It unleashed a fierce rage inside of me.

Without thinking, I sent the knife that I had held so tightly inside my fist hurling at Not-Isaac's back. It was a perfect strike. The knife buried itself into his back. Not-Isaac made a slight choking sound before falling forward. I grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled him out of Not-Isaac's collapsing path before he could get crushed. Not-Isaac's body fell, torso hitting the floor with a thud. Blood blossomed from his wound. His breathing had ceased to a stop. Dead.

Just at that moment, Dad pushed the door open and stared with shocked eyes at the scene before his eyes. I screamed. Not at Dad, but at the milky white cloud that was slowly peeling off of Isaac's form, floating up into the air and arranging itself into a very familiar figure. Gally.

I was paralyzed with terror when he spoke. "You killed me. In the most brutal way, you killed me. It was only fair if I tried to return the favor. Your little brother was a wonderful human host for my ghost. It was perfect. But then you had to fight your way out of it. Look what happened now, you murderer," Gally said in a bitter voice. His body looked worn out, his clothes were torn and filthy. All in all, he looked real except for the edges of his figure, where his body faded out slightly. His skin was exceptionally pale. Then he vanished, washed away without leaving a single trace behind.

My hands were shaking extremely hard. At the back of my foggy mind, I processed that Dad was speaking to me, probably asking what happened. I ignored him, trapped in my own trance of grief. I crawled over to Isaac's body, a sob building up in my throat. Vaguely, I could hear Charlie crying from trauma of what he saw.

When I reached out and took Isaac's wrist, I didn't feel a pulse. His body was already starting to get cold. Isaac was dead. My little brother was dead. And I killed him.

I cupped his face in my hands and looked into his dead eyes that were still wide open, a flash of fear forever engraved into his irises. His eyes were shards of sky blue again. I started crying.


	8. Chapter 8

I sobbed for hours, clinging on to Isaac's dead body, refusing to let go. Dad and Mom tried to get me to explain what happened, but I didn't answer. I couldn't. My parents' faces were heartbroken and confused, but I knew they were trying to hold up for Charlie and I. Charlie didn't really know what was going on, but he knew it wasn't good and had cried with me.

Finally, I was drained of tears and was left with a hollow sadness that enveloped me like a cocoon. I stared at Isaac's corpse with empty eyes. I killed him. I killed my own brother. I killed my own brother to save my other brother who was being attacked by the brother I murdered. Despite the circumstances, I felt the odd urge to laugh at the irony of it.

Shaking my head to get rid of the thought, a level a determination started to rise inside of me. I couldn't do this to my family - I have to leave them. It's the only way to protect them. Because now I know it's a fact.

I have the Flare.

Like Dad said, first came the delusions. I saw Gally even though he was supposed to be dead. I had that dream about killing someone. What was Gally talking about when he said I killed him? And then…I murdered Isaac. Stabbed him in the back with a knife; that's the lowest way to kill somebody. After that, I had seen Gally again, telling me he had used Isaac as a human host for his spirit or whatever. I must have been hallucinating that.

As for my fight with Imposter-Isaac, I believe that actually happened. Not matter how much I want it to just be a consequence of me going insane, here I was, with pieces of glass sticking out of my back, kneeling over Isaac's dead body.

Mom and Dad had to haul Charlie downstairs to get him away from this room of tragedy. When they had been outside the doorframe, Dad had said with a stern tone to his voice, "You're explaining later." But what could I say?

 _Oh, I'm sorry, but Isaac kind of attacked with a knife and I fought back and accidentally killed my little brother but I promise I'll make it up to you?_

I couldn't stay and explain. My parents would hate me forever. I couldn't live in this world and infect everyone else, no matter how immune they say they are. I was born from two Immune parents and I still succumbed to the Flare. Which meant I only had one choice. Run away.

Wobbling, I stood up. Carefully walking towards the window, I saw that there was no light coming from outside. Instead, the sky was dark and scattered with bright stars. It was nighttime, a perfect time to run away, hidden from the shadows. And I knew exactly how I would go about escaping.

I quickly ran to my backpack and pulled out a black composition notebook. I tore off a lined page from it and grabbed a pen, swiftly writing a note to my family. Or what's left of my family, anyway.

I'm sorry, but this is good-bye. Thank you for everything.

-Terry

I felt a lump forming in my throat, but I refused to give in.

Straightening up, I filed through my closet to find a suitable outfit. I came out with a pair of skinny jeans, black converses, and a black shirt that Minho had given to me on my birthday. It said:

Yeah, I fight like a girl. You got a problem with that?

I smiled slightly. It was just something to hold on to from home.

After slipping the clothes on, I dropped to the floor and started knocking gently on the wood. Finally, I heard a hollow sound echo below my fist. I pressed my thumb onto the panel of wood, which recognized my fingerprint and activated a small holographic touch-screen in front of me, displaying a blank space asking for a password and a keyboard.

My fingers darted across the screen, swiftly typing in a password that had 30 letters/numbers in it. There was a small beep as the screen accepted my password and vanished into empty air. The panel of wood slid open, revealing a storage space that contained a black briefcase.

I hauled the briefcase out of the secret storage space and tried to lay it on the floor with as little noise as possible.

In case anybody was wondering, I created the whole secret storage thing when I was 10 years old. That's a really young age, I know. But hey, I have an impressively high IQ that was extremely rare. Total tech prodigy. At least, that's what the teachers who had me take the IQ test said. I can't say I deny it though. Humble me.

It was actually simple technology; fingerprint activated doors were quite popular. Our house even had one. All I had to do was implant some technology in the wood that was able to recognize my own thumbprint and bring out a holographic screen once the security check was over. I had decided that wasn't enough and created a special passcode that could mobilize the wooden panel to move.

Of course, I wasn't genius enough to be able to make all of that technology by myself, especially as a 10 year old. I kind of…broke our door to see the inside of it and find out the details of fingerprint activated technology. Mom and Dad grounded me for two weeks after that incident…

The holographic screen came from hacking into the school security system all the time. I dissected the school's technology for that one time when I was ditching school again. The school claimed to be "vandalized" after that event, so I guess I became a criminal when I was very small. They didn't figure out that it was me though.

And they never will know it was me, because I am leaving this place. For good.

I created the storage space by breaking the floor and hollowing out the material that supported it…with a hammer…and a hatchet…that I stole borrowed without asking from the supposedly hidden weapons room in the gym. Minho's the only one who has the key to get in the weapons room, but a professional hacker won't be stopped by a simple mechanic lock.

My parents were at work when I carved out the space, so they didn't know about it. I managed to cover it up by the time they came back.

My knuckles tightened around the handle of the briefcase. The thing inside the briefcase: that was much more complicated and essential to my escape plan.

I deactivated the technology and the wooden panel slid shut again. Pausing for a second as I got to my feet, I wondered if I'd need food. I decided against it; I would just slowly go crazy anyway with or without food. To die faster would be much easier; if I had food to help me along, it would take so much longer.

To be honest, it has occurred to me that I could just kill myself here and now. And I have to admit…I'm afraid to. I don't want to die right away. From the many stories that my mother and father have told, I know it's better to just die and get it over with.

"The process of going crazy is much worse," Dad would say.

But I just couldn't…I wanted to put myself through torture so I would feel Isaac's pain. Isaac died fighting me, and I killed him. I felt so guilty… I didn't deserve a fast death. A slow, agonizing death would serve better. What better way than to go crazy bit by bit until I was a suffering, miserable mess that wasn't even close to being human?

I loved my family. My pride was something that kept me denying it for years. But I really did. This was for them.

With hands that were fighting to be steady, I pulled the briefcase up with me as I stood. Unhooking a black leather jacket from the coatrack in my room, I quietly opened the window. Poking my head out, I felt a gush of wind dancing through the air, blowing my hair back.

I gazed down. The grass below me looked soft and welcoming, but I wasn't fooled. The dirt underneath the tiny blades of green must be hard packed soil. Crouching on the windowsill, I ducked my head under the upper window frame.

Not bothering to close the window, I made sure I had a firm grip on the briefcase handle.

Then, without a second of hesitation, I leapt off the windowsill, as if to escape the tendrils of fear that threatened to envelope me.

I mean, it was only 2 stories up.

* * *

A/N: Wow. Yes, I haven't updated in like, a year. All I can say is...oops? Life really, really sucks. But anyway, more updates coming soon! 


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